Fur, Fangs, and Frightfalls
by The SunRunner
Summary: Based on Cloudy's Frightfalls AU. Dipper has been bitten by a werewolf and Mabel a vampire. Struggling with their new afflictions and now part of a world that stretches beyond Gravity Falls, when Dipper meets a werewolf who offers him guidance, will it be enough to stop the children of the night?
1. Chapter 1

Gravity Falls

The sun rose far over Gravity Falls, crisp morning air turning into an almost muggy noon atmosphere, the change in temperature causing wind to carry the scent of sharp pine off the forest and onto the surrounding areas. The light breeze rolled over the sea of green, uncountable needles gently swaying in the breeze, moved by the soft exertion of force on them, and as it continued its past through the wilderness it washed over the rugged exterior of a wizen, but in no way run down, shack that served as a tourist attraction and home to a select few residents. The structure stood roughly two stories tall, including its attic, its shingles barely cling to its triangular roof in some places, old and greying. A sheet of tin laid out near the S that fell from its perch among its brothers, covering the hole left from where the fraction of the sign fell, yellow-green moss sprouting up across it in many places acting as a true testament to its age and allowing it a certain 'homey' look as nature battled to claim it, but failed as it stood in its resolve to house its family, bearing signs upon its exterior such as "gifts," "world famous," and its most proud badge of honor, "Mystery Shack."

It was in this domain, this small fortress of old things, expensive junk, and regrets that Dipper Pines woke.

Stirring in his bed, the boy begins to rise near noon, such as any other boy who during their summer vacation, especially one who had been up late researching his collective of clues around the various mysteries of Gravity Falls, and reading from his secret journal. Face buried in his thick and fluffy pillow, his shaggy hair pressed underneath half of his head, while the rest either lays on the cushion or the other half of his head, he blinks a couple times after drowsily realizing he was awake, then pulls more of the blanket onto him, stretching out under them as he loosened up the muscles and prepared to get up. Feeling near euphoria from his limbs as he stretches them, he relaxes after they pass the peak, laying under the covers for a moment as his mind returns to its normal alert state when not sleeping. Tossing off his sheets, then sitting up and yawning once, he steps out of bed, having grown so accustomed to the room that he doesn't even notice its features, their existence listed in his subconscious.

He looks onto his sister laying in bed, blankets pulled up close to her as she rests. Ever since that jerk Lucas had bitten her, her internal alarm clock had been on the fritz, as she was no longer a creature of the day, but one of the night who must operate by day. They had set up thick curtains over their room's window to block out the sunlight, as it so much bothered her. The poor thing, Dipper still felt horrible thinking over what had happened to her. At least he didn't have an irrational fear of letting sunlight touch his skin now, though dysmorphia can't be called much better.

Leaving her to sleep longer out of a feeling of pity, he went out of their attic room, closing the door as softly as he could out of habit to make sure he didn't wake Mabel. Taking his first step forward, raising his sock covered foot then setting it down ahead of the other, it felt..._weird._ Not wrong of course, it couldn't feel wrong to be in his own skin, but as he walked down the hall it was like he was unsure if he was doing it correctly. It was like this every morning, waking and questioning who you were; man or wolf; unsure of each movement.

If that made any sense.

He knew that The Wolf felt that same way, though it understood it better, not tied down by those complex abstract concepts like words, only knowing pure meaning. In that way he almost resented his human body and mind for that, just as he almost resented The Wolf's body and mind for causing him to feel these things. Ever since he was bitten and first turned this is what it had been like. Unsure if you should throw your plastic water bottle in the recycling, or chew on it some.

It made him shudder as he thought about it, turning to the bathroom. He had a little trick he used each morning to help him with this split sense of self. Turning on the lights he went to the mirror, smiling, happy as he saw his own face in it still. The smile would only last for a moment though, as the face staring back still felt slightly foreign.

Turning his face to the right, he reached up and lightly touched his cheek, running his fingers down to his chin, then rubbing it. Turning the other way he felt the other half, touching everywhere, feeling every rise, fall, bump, and crevices, going and tugging at his ear a little. A little uncomfortable, but at least he knew it was the one he had. Reaching up he laid his hands against the mirror, palms pressed flat to the glass, he leaned his head in, getting a nice close look in as he examines his hands, his arms running down to them, and his body where his arms connected.

Taking a breath in, now feeling much more grounded, and confident in his physical form, he heads out to go downstairs for breakfast.

Later

"Mabel, time to get up." Dipper said after having gotten changed, lightly attempting to rouse his sister.

"Hissss..." She responded dulling, pulling the blankets up over her head.

"Mabel, I mean it," Dipper said, grabbing the covers and pulling them back, "It's time to get up. I know you hate it, but Stan's heading into the store and we're going with him."

The sheets slipped from Mabel's hand as Dipper yanked them away, having not really bothered to hold on. She groaned and sat up, bedhead wild and messy. Nowadays there was about a fifty-fifty chance she'd either be well wrested in the morning, or feel like she had gone on another Smile Dip trip.

She stepped out of bed, trudging for her clothing. Dipper leaves her to her own devices while she changes, knowing that after a few minutes she'd perk up. He went down the hall, stopping at a window, getting a clear view of the surrounding forest. On days like this, he began craving being out there, with soft pine needles crunching under paw and wild scents on his nose, fur slicked back against his body by rushing air as the spindly legs of the pup quickly carried him through the woods.

He looked away from it, suspecting that if he wanted to he could take on the form of The Wolf right then and there. Something he normally couldn't muster, though he also suspected if he kept looking he'd slip away into a daydream and inadvertently change regardless.

Well… at least he was coming to recognize it. He turned from where he stood overlooking the yard and forest, and… and what looked like Gompers chasing a coyote away. You go, Goat!

Walking back down the hall he knocked on the door to his and Mabel's room. "Mabel?"

"Come in!" She responded on the otherside, sounding much more cheery.

Dipper twisted the doorknob, opening it and coming in. "How you holding up?" He asked, stepping through the doorway.

"Pretty good." Mabel adjusted the oversized sunhat on her head she had taken to wearing to keep the sunlight off, a big pink plastic kitten pin that Mabel may or may not have mugged a five year old for was stuck to the side of the crown. "Just need to put on the sunscreen." She said, picking up a bottle of Dipper's SPF 100. "By the way, you're almost out."

Dipper looked at the oversized bottle, which would have lasted him the whole summer, but Mabel went through that stuff surprisingly fast. "That's on the list of things we need." Dipper said, though Mabel technically didn't NEED sunscreen, it just acted as a kind of mental barrier against her vampiric fear of the sun.

"Along with dog treats!" Mabel said cheerfully, squirting out some sunscreen into her hand.

Dipper rolled his eyes at the comment, "Hahaha-no." He said, smile turning into a mildly annoyed look of apathy on his semi-expressionless face.

"Haha, lighten up, Fido! You and Waddles go through those things like Gompers goes through cans and Stan goes through costumers." She laughed as she continued to apply sunscreen.

Dipper reached out with his index finger, and flicked up, tipping Mabel's large straw hat off her head.

"Hey!" Mabel spun around and caught the hat as it fell with surprising speed and ease, sticking her tongue out at Dipper as she placed it back on his head.

Finishing up, Mabel placed large sunglasses over her eyes, and made sure that her rich brown hair were positioned in a such a way that covered her pointed ears, held in place by her headband.

"How do I look?" She asked, tilting her hat back, showing off her light orange sweater, the design of a sunflower in full bloom growing up from the lower hem to the chest.

"Fancy." Dipper answered, though this was coming from from a guy who thinks washing his clothes is a waste of time, so think of that what you will.

They'd head out together, meeting Stan and Soos, one of which was basically free labor when it came to running these errands, in the living room, who had been waiting for them below much to Stan's impatiens. They would have left right then, but Stan had misplace his fez, and _refused to go out to town without it! _After grumbling at a smug remark from Dipper, he found it under the checkout counter with no indication of how it got there.

He suspects Waddles.

Later

After a short ride into town, dodging a few cars, as well as what appeared to be a suicidal woodpecker distraught over the state of its marriage, on the way over, they finally managed to pull into the driveway of the local retail store. Rectangular in shape, it looked like, well, every retail store EVER, it contained all they'd need to hold them over for the next few days, from groceries to pet supplies. They exited the car, much to Dipper's delight, the various foul odors he noticed once his sense of smell spiked had begun to bother him.

Not to say it wasn't intriguing. On the contrary, he had come to understand why dogs were always fixated on smelling certain objects. Not only were smells sharper, but he found that smells were often 'layered,' with many unique scents overlapping each other to form a distinctive smell from a particular source. Coming to think of it, a heighten sense of smell could be very useful in pursuing the mysteries he had been trying to solve all summer...

Stepping out onto the dark grey asphalt, already heating up as the sun's searing beams bore down relentlessly on the stone, they walked around the car and onto the cooler sidewalk, going to the left then making a right to the automatic doors that provided passage to the air conditioned sanctuary of reasonable prices, discounts, and probably more than a few subliminal messages aimed at inspire patrons to buy more.

Dipper noticed the sea of smells before he even went through the door. It was pleasant really, a ten-thousand different smells mixing to for ten-thousand new ones, providing no end of olfactory stimulation to keep the inexperienced lycanthrope enthralled.

Mabel on the other hand noticed from the moment she walked through the automated doors that everything was so big and orderly. It was a comfort really. Vampirism had left her with near OCD like compulsions, and she had to constantly worry when she went out about being able to stop herself from acting on them. It mostly revolved around counting small, unorganized things, such as a tiny patch of flowers, seeds that had been spilt in front of her, or that a pile of popsicle sticks the boys hadn't thrown away just yet. This behavior only grew worse when she was stressed, often turning to it as a means to calm down. She even had a few sweaters with several little repetitive designs on the front that she could look down to and count whenever she grew stressed.

Stan got a cart, "Soos, check the arts and crafts secretion for multi-colored glitter! I've got a genius idea for my next traction: picture it, from the Land Down Under, straight of out legend: 'The Rainbow Serpent!'" He said the charismatic mannerism of a con-man trying to sell something, his hand raised in front of his chest, slowly waved from the left to right as he said it, as if highlighting the sign for this next attraction he envisioned, head tilted back slightly and gaze up, excited as he grinned, staring at something invisible. "...Or snake. I don't know."

Soos soluted, more than happy to serve the closest thing he had to a father figure however he could. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Pines!" The handyman ran off to do as he was commanded.

"And don't forget some feathers too!" Stan shouted after him, moving the cart along, Dipper and Mabel by his side. They would probably wonder off together soon.

They went through the aisles, Stan flopping in paper towels, toiletries, aftershave, bread, serial, some meat of an undisclosed nature, and of course a box of dog treats.

"Okay, seriously?" Dipper said in irritation, crossing his arms.

"Lighten up, Kid. Last time you accidently lost it you got into the pantry and tore up a whole box. They keep you manageable, and we need another. Deal with it." He looked through the shelves. "Now lets see..." he grabs a can off one, holding it in front of him while he examined it. "Dog food?"

He and Mabel both looked at Dipper.

The boy looked between his Grunkle, sister, and the can. "...Don't you dare."

"We've got a keeper!" Stan dropped it in, continuing to push the cart along.

Dipper growled, lowering his head and looking away, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked off.

Mabel skipt after him. "Awww, is the wittle Dipper a pouty puppy?" She laughed at what she said.

"Mabel, please cut it out." He protested, lacking the proper experience and maturity to accurately express that it bothered him that they were poking at such a sensitive subject.

"Haha, does someone need a bellyrub?"

"Mabel, don't even-" He was cut off as Mabel rubbed/tickled his stomach, making him burst into fits of laughter, recoiling back, drawing his arms up, elbows turning in to his side. "M-M-Mabel, STOP!" He yelled, swatting her hands aside. If she had kept it up, he'd be fuzzy right now. "Not in public." He leaned forward, whispering, "You almost got me to sprout a tail."

"Oops...Sorry, Homedog, I keep forgetting anything can set you off." She smiled sweetly, eyes kind and sorry behind the sunglass as she tilted her head a little to the right, looking at her brother.

Dipper was taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Taking a look back, he was actually having a very lucky day, he thought for sure he would turn that time. "It's fine, just, just don't do it again. I don't think Stan wants me to shed in the car."

Mabel giggled a little, and with that they were made up. It certainly took Dipper's mid off the whole dog food thing.

After a few minutes Stan went to pay, though he used a couple coupons that expired before Dipper and Mabel were born. Mabel had found a newly emptied tip jar, and could visibly see all the coins in it. She counted 46 pennies, 5 nickels, 7 dimes, and thirteen quarters. It was satisfying once she had finished, though she hated that she felt the compulsion at all. Dipper had walked a short distance, the soles of his shoes clicking against the white and blue linoleum floor, the glossy sheen reflecting a dull imagine of him straight up, along with the glow of the fluorescent lights overhead.

He took two steps past a trashcan, then stopped. Something inside it smelt really interesting. And I mean like, REALLY interesting. Kind of like chicken mixed with nutmeg and lavender that had been used as a manitor sweatclothe then sprayed with light perfume. He turned to face the can, sniffed a few times, gaze locked on the container, a cold sweat breaking out on his brown as his heart pumped like a thunderdrum in his ear, butterflies taking off in his stomach. He takes a step towards it, transfixed, eyes widening like a saucer, then another as he got ready to get down on all fours and stick his head in.

_Tap tap!_

He was poked twice in the back, then a hand took his shoulder and turned him to face her. Mabel was looking at the disoriented boy, taking a step back while keeping her hand on his shoulder, leading him away. "Sorry, bro, can't let you do that."

She placed her other hand on his other shoulder, taking another step back with him. "You still with me, Dipper?" It was just a hunch, but she thought talking, using words his human brain had to comprehend, would help pull him back.

He blinked a few times. "M...Mabel..."

"Hi-yah, Brobro! Almost wolfed out there for a second."

"Yeah...yeah." He straightened up, starting to walk with her, putting his arm around her shoulder. "Thanks for keeping me people."

They'd head head back to the Shack after that, and after Stan miraculously didn't get banned from that store as well, most likely because they just didn't want to go through the hassle of fighting him and gave in, accepting the ancient coupons.

Later

When they got home they helped unload the car, Dipper still irritated to see that the can of dog food actually had been bought, but at least they'd be good for a couple of days. Mabel was glad to be out of the sun, though Dipper wished he could go into town more without worrying.

After it was all inside, Stan left again, leaving Soos to keep an eye on them, something about going to sift through a trash heap. The kids were given near free run of the house within the realm of reason. Because despite what a lot of people had said about him, Soos wasn't completely irresponsible or idiotic, and could function well as a temporary guardian for kids.

The next few hours were mostly spent charging Soos' stomach while he had a pillow acting as armor, making "The Rainbow Serpent" as a surprise for Stan, and going into a trance like state while staring at the TV. The first of which, though he could still withstand, Soos noticed that Mabel seemed to have gotten a little stronger and faster since she was bitten.

When Stan pulled up to the Shack he had something strapped to the roof. "Soos, come give me a hand with this!"

Soos came sprinting out, stopping next to the car door, standing straight and saluting. "Soos the Handyman reporting for duty, Sir!"

"Um...at ease? Just help me get dog crate in the house."

"Dog crate?" Dipper's voice resonated over the bumping of plastic and metal together. He had come out of the house to see Stan now that he was home, but he wasn't entirely happy with how this was going.

"Yep. Figured it might be a little easier to deal with a wolf when you have someplace to put it where it can't cause destruction, chaos, blow down straw and stick house...You know, wolf things?"

Dipper looked up at the big white plastic crate as Soos lifted it down. "...Really?"

"To be fair, dude," Soos interjected, "you did steal my grilled cheese when you were all canine and stuff, right out of my mouth. Maybe this can help keep you from doing stuff, like, stealing a grilled cheese out of a dude's mouth, then be embarrassed by it when you come to."

It...was sound. And the way Soos said it had made the thought easier. "That seems reasonable." He rubbed his chin. "I guess."

"See? Killin two birds with one stone. Three if you count that I now have a legitimate reason to lock my great nephew in a crate when he's annoying that society won't frown upon if they knew the context behind."

Dipper laughed a little, nervously, as he suspected that his Gruncle wasn't kidding with that part. When Soos carried it past them inside, Dipper got a whiff of it. "Did you...get that from the dump?"

"...Yes."

At least he'd clean it once inside, though Dipper was pretty sure that as a wolf, he would like the way it smelled tonight. Preparing for it, Dipper removed his shoes while he sat on his bed, legs hanging over the edge, then removed his socks, placing them in his shoes then setting them on a shelf where he wouldn't be able to get to them as a quadruped. He had chewed on a lot of stuff last full moon, and he didn't have extra shoes.

Wiggling his toes as he felt the hard wooden floor under his feet, since he had been bitten they had developed thick, leathery soles that reduced the number of splinters the floor gave him. He left his and Mabel's room, and went to the bathroom. He had once left a mess in the living room when he changed. Stan had not been happy with him over that, and once Dipper changed back had made a joke about putting him outside, though Dipper suspected that he may have actually wanted to do it. Just a little.

He also made sure to close the bathroom door once he left, the creaky wooden frame squeezing back into place as the squeaky hinges slid over each other, aluminum knob painted brass spinning back into its original position after he lets it go. He could only imagine the embarrassment if Mabel got a picture of him drinking out of the toilet. Not to mention how gross just _thinking _about it was.

Done up there he went down stairs, bare feet making the old deteriorating floorboards creak under his weight. He held his hand just over the railing that seemed to be made out of sticks, jumping over a particularly dilapidated step he leaped the last three steps down, glancing at _assumed_ was a fake stuffed dodo bird, he went out into the living room, throwing his hat onto the chair, he flopped down.

Nervously tapping his fingers against his little knees, he tries to brace himself for what is to come. Not knowing what exact time it'll happen, he had set a camera up early to record the change and see if he could find out more information about it; how it happened; what it looked like; behavior beforehand and the like. He had also asked Mabel to get the time it happened just in case something went wrong with the video camera, the same reason he included 17 cameras on their pursuit of the Gobblewonker.

"Hey, Dipper!" Mabel shouted as she entered the room. "Why you fidgeting so much? Have to go to the bathroom? You don't want to leave another mess in here like that other time."

"Mabel!" Dipper yelled, going a little pink in the cheeks. "That's...I'm not...I'm housebroken!"

Mabel burst out laughing as Dipper's face got more read when he realized what he had had said. He facepalmed, burying his face in his hand.

"Hahaha, okay… hehe… okay, seriously," she went over to the recliner, draping herself over one of its arms, resting her chin on her folded arms, looking up at her brother with big brown eyes what had grown darker since the change," What's bothering you?"

"Oh…" he sighed slightly, looking away, "You'd probably be a little nervous if you KNEW it was going to happen, but had no idea when to expect it."

Mabel got what he was saying. "Ah…" she trailed off, "I can see how you'd feel like that, but hey," she turned over on the arm of the recliner, her hair falling down from her head and stomach pointing up, "you're documenting like, paranatural stuff and junk! That always have fun with that."

"Heh, yeah, well when you say it like that it doesn't seem so… wait. Is that camera even on?" They got up and checked. "...Nope!" Presses the power button, the red light flashing on to signal it was recording. "Whew." He headed back to the chair. "That could have been… could have... been…"

His voice trailed off, becoming placid, his eyes widening as his mouth hangs open. His body going rigid in a contorted position, his bent arms jutting out in front of him, he arches his back inward while lights dim and flicker through the house.

When it stopped, Mabel looked around, blinking a few times. "Dipper?"

She felt a nudge against her leg, and looked down to see a brown young wolf pup rubbing his head against her. "Ah, there you are." She rubbed Dipper's furry head, scratching behind his erect ears, rounded at the tips. He liked that. She looked up from her now canine brother, cupping one hand next to her mouth, she shouted, "GRUNKLE STAN, DIPPER FINALLY TURNED!"

His voice returned, shouting unnecessarily, "GOT IT! BRING HIM OUT TO THE KITCHEN!"

Mabel led the pup after her to the kitchen, where Stan had the dog crate set up and was lightly leaning against it, wearing his usual informal attire of a tank top and boxer shorts, and holding something in his left hand. "Bout time. Hey boy!"

Dipper perked up, looking at his gruncle. Wolf mind or not, he still recognized family.

"Want a treat?" Stan holds up a dog treat in his left hand, Dipper's dark yellow brown eyes fixing on it. "Well? Do ya, Kid?"

Dipper's semi-bushy tail began to wag, growing excited he runs and jumps for it.

"Whoa!" Stan pulled his hand out of Dipper's reach as the the pup almost got it. "Forgot he's not a dog." He stepped around the crate, making sure that the wolf could still see it. "Go get the treat!" Stan said, tossing it in the crate.

Black claws scritted against grey wooden floor, padded feet sliding over its smooth surface as Dipper raced around, springing into the large plastic crate, its white white exterior having dulled greatly.

Stan closed the mesh wire gate, cutting off the wolf's escape, metal squeaking and clanging against its hinges slightly. "Ha!" He exclaimed. "That out to hold you."

Dipper shifted his lupine head around, arching his body to the left as he turned, chewing on his treat. He went to the gate, smart enough to know that it was almost definitely locked, but he still nudged his forehead against the woven steel barrier. When it didn't move, he pawed at it a little, whining.

"Grunkle Stan, this seems mean." Mabel said, looking up at her great uncle, eyes a little bigger than normal with concern.

"Maybe, but we need to get him used to the crate in case we ever actually need to use it." He waved her off and started to walk away. "Plus, now I don't have to worry about him running off and getting lost, chewing on my stuff, or peeing on the carpet."

"He only did that last one once!" Mabel shouted after him, Dipper, who seemingly understood at some level his sister was sticking up for him, began wagging his tail lightly. This didn't phase Grunkle Stan of course, and Mabel stopped at the doorway to the staircase entryway. She looked back at Dipper, who was gazing through the wire gate expectantly at her.

Mabel whimpered a little, but left Dipper in there as per Stan's request. Though she felt 50-50 about locking her brother in a crate, it got worse when she saw how sad he looked just over half an hour in.

"Awww...don't be like that, Dip." She knelt down in front if the crate, Dipper looking up at her with soulful eyes. "Don't be like that, it's just for now. Then you can run around, and… what is it you like to do when you're a wolf? Sniff butts? Chase cars?"

He whined a little hearing her voice drown on.

"Ehgerrr!" She made a pained face, and clenched over her heart. "Heart attack! Too… cute!... Wait. Do I even still have a heartbeat." She looked down at her chest, still wearing her sunflower sweater. "...Meh." She shrugged

Dipper still looked up at her like the sad little puppy he was.

Mabel placed her fists on her hips, looking down at him, her lower lip sticking out in gruff little frown as she squints at him. "Stop that."

He doesn't.

"I said stop that!"

He still won't.

"Gosh darn it, stop looking so sad!" She practically jammed her face against the gate.

Dipper sat up, ears perking and eyes on her, excited as he thinks she's about to do it, and maybe, on some deep level, even without his normal human mental capacity, he knows she's about to break.

She looked into his expecting yellow brown eyes, trusting and innocent. Too genuinely loyal and believing to betray. "...Blarg." She said with an absolute straight face. "Fine, I'll let you out." She began to work with the lock. "But you have to promise to be a good boy."

The second the latch was unlocked and the Mabel stepped to the side, pulling the gate open, Dipper sprang out, bolting in a brown blur in a straight line, springy legs pushing him of the ground as he leaped forward at the end of the kitchen, carrying him right through the open kitchen window.

Mabel watched in silent as her brother disappeared out the window, unmoving and unresponsive, gave fixed on the window. "I...," she rubbed her chin, eyes narrowing towards the window in contemplation, "I didn't know he could make that jump."

Outside the moment Dipper's paws touched down on hardened, packed dirt, a spang ran through his heart as the wild hunt ran through him. Front ones coming down first then pulling forward has the back ones followed, coming up to his front legs before they came crashing back down, pushing off the dirt and launching him forward as he sprinted, yellowed grass crunching underneath him with each step.

His heart pounded, adrenaline flowing freely through his body as he reached speeds to keep up with any fleet-footed hare. As a boy he could never move this fast, but as a wolf in that short burst to the treeline in view of the kitchen window, he felt like he could run with lightning bolts through storm clouds, the endless currents through the ocean, or the ever shifting magma-flows through the earth-bones themselves. His tongue flopping through the air with each great bound hangs to the left of his face, fur pressed back by the rushing air, as he passes the trees and shrubbery, racing into the forest and the night, the silver luminance of the full moon the only light provided to him.

The soft pine needles crunch underpaw as he weaves in and out of trees; the wild scents, diverse, untamed, and free, resting themselves upon his nose. Now was the time to run wild. Now was the time to hunt. His sprinting turned into the wide gait of a romp, and his romp then became a trot. He stopped, panting heavily from the exertion and thrill of it all. His ears remained perked and at the ready, the second sharpest of all his senses, rotation around to face different directions, picking up on the many sounds of the forest and its inhabitants making their wild music, on the lookout for danger or prey.

Remaining like that, just listening to the forest and its music, he'd gather his breath before moving on, the pads of his feet muffling his movement. His sleek body slipping through the folds in the undergrowth, he weaves in and out of bushes, his young frame having yet to reach its full size, allowing him to stay lower and more concealed while he prowled. A useful advantage of still being the little guy.

He lowers his head to the ground, sniffing, then raises it back up, sniffing more. There's many smells, but the question remains if he can find potential food. The most common things he usually snags are rabbits, squirrels, a beaver this one time, and low living birds. He stepped out of the patch of underbrush that was concealing him, looking, smelling, and listening. He didn't have the same understanding of smells as a normal wolf, as he hadn't been a werewolf for long, but he was quickly learning. You'd amazed what you can tell from a smell: age, sickness, emotion, species, and much more.

Determining that there was no suitable prey nearby, the little brown wolf trotted off to explore areas with more potential.

Trot turning into a gallop, he picked up more speed, gliding between trees and once vibrant green plants that had dulled slightly in the summer heat, energized, full moon's light breaking through the tree canopy to cast illumination through the forest. He had all night. And this was how it went for most of the night. Moving swiftly from place to place, sniffing for potential food, moving on when he found none, and occasionally stopping to gaze up at the full moon through breaks in the tree cover above him. The white glow of the great sky disc was always so... _entrancing._

A little disappointed that he was unable to find any proper food, Dipperpup sat down on his haunches, lowering his head and angling his gaze down, his ears drooped, tail curling against his thigh. He let out one whimper, then another, staying there like this for a while, the wolf may have been able find his way back to the Shack, but it had very little experience with navigating distances as far as he had traveled, and hadn't exactly been paying attention to where he had gone. He didn't quite have the mental capacity for rational thought to think about it as clearly as that, but he did have enough to understand that by running off like that, he was probably lost. The tall, thick pine trees around him stretching up, competing with each other to earn their spot in the sunlight before it arrived again, deep brown trunks as visible as far as any eye could see, they rose and fall with the shape of the land, growing up and around Oregon's large rock outcroppings that were both above and below ground. Shrubbery, ferns, and other flora grow between those trees, some patches of bushes and the like are tall enough to conceal a man, and thick enough for small animals to take refuge in without fear of big hunters.

To make it worse, he missed Mabel.

He may have pouted more, but air moves a little differently through thick forest, especially when there's uneven terrain and no constant strong wind. It was because of this that when the airflow gently shifted a little that he noticed for the first time a new scent.

He perked up, sniffing again, taking careful analysis of the new smell. He recognized the like of it. He had been harassed by a pack of adult female werewolves before, learning from this how to distinguish between wolves and werewolves, as well as identify rough age, size, and gender. Observing it shortly, he took it in, and soon it became very apparent that this was most likely an adult male. A very big one.

He stood up, anxious and nervous, ears perking up and flicking around to try to pinpoint the source of the smell. Another sniff made it very clear that he was getting closer. One of his ears picked up the sound of rustling, rotating it instinctively to get a better lock on the sound, hearing branches sliding over fur as it drew nearer. Dipper jumped around to face the direction he heard it from, he crouched down, tail between his legs and ears pressed back against his head, glancing from side to side and behind him as he began to back up into a fold in the bushes. Getting down on his stomach and fur covered forearms, he crawled back into them, laying his head, nestled between his front legs, he tries to make himself as small as possible, hiding as still as he could under the woody plants.

It was then, from out of the shrubs and undergrowth, that the approaching werewolf emerged, sleek and muscular build sliding out from between the bushes he had been navigating through. Stepping into a patch of moonlight, his dark brown fur glistened slightly with a sheen that some wolves developed during the summer, hints of auburn within the brown coat brought out by exposure to sunlight before hand. He continued, going through the opening into the slight clearing Dipper had occupied moments before hand, tail held high with a slight upward curve and ears facing forward, head held up with eyes secure and directed forward.

The typical behavior of an alpha, despite that he was most likely a lone wolf. That meant either he was very arrogant as a human, or had reason to be confident as a wolf.

He came to a stop less than two yards from where Dipper hid, turning his head to the left, piercing amber eyes staring directly into the patch between the bushes where Dipper laid in. The young wolf knew that he was spotted, but remained absolutely still. This territory wasn't marked, and that could mean that this lycanthrope was passing through just like him, giving no reason to be afraid. The big wolf changed its path, and walked towards Dipper. The wolfboy tensed, readying to run, the huge lupine frame looming over him. He crawls back a little, putting a few more inches between them, the larger wolf lowering its head and its gaze to Dipper's.

Stopping inches from the pup's nose, the matured one gazed at him for a few moments, quietly sniffing. The big wolf takes two steps forward, drawing its head around the younger's back, little leaf covered branches brushing against the fur covered face. As he did this Dipper turned onto his back before the larger wolf, exposing his stomach in submission, acknowledging the other's superior status. The larger wolf only continues to sniff, burying his wet nose in the little werewolf's soft and fuzzy tummy, taking careful note of his scent.

The bigger wolf draws its face up, stepping back, calm gaze still on Dipper. The smaller of the two relaxes, recognizing that the larger meant no hard, his tail began to wag slightly. He turned over onto his stomach, staying low with his yellow gold eyes fixed on the other werewolf, tail still wagging. He crawls forward slightly, inching towards the bigger, he was met with the same calm looking of observation. Dipper got up, staying very low as he slowly walked towards the bigger wolf, raising his head up a little, remaining cautious as he sniffs the other, tail still wagging a little, finding that it was a good scent: a friendly scent. Drawing up some, but still cautious, he lifts his head to lick at the lips of the larger wolf, which allows it, but jerks its head away, a little uncomfortable with how the display of dominance felt.

Dipper's almost bushy tail began to really wag, and he jumped up, prancing around the larger than crouching down the upper half of his body, front legs bread far and wide as he gazed up with yellow brown eyes, behind in the air and tail swishing back and forth as he hoped to play. Again, the bigger of the two made no objection.

Dipper sprang up again, jumping around the other, and prancing a little. The big wolf watched him, his tail began to sway a little, and as Dipper rushed him, jumping up on his hind legs to throw his front legs around the larger's neck, play biting him, the other werewolf returned his fake attack, jumping up slightly and throwing his body to the left while he swipes, throwing the smaller one off him. Dipper came bounding right back, the larger one jumping him excitement, wrapping both arms around Dipper when he tries it again, throwing the pup on his back and pinning him beneath his larger frame. The young wolf looked up, ears held back and tail wagging as he submitted.

The older werewolf released him, and step back, the smaller twisting around and standing up, panting in excitement. The larger one turned and walked off in the direction Dipper had come in from, stopping a few yards away and looking back. Dipper's tail still wagged, and he walked after him.

They'd trot off from their, the elder wolf leading the younger back along the faint scent he had left behind as he had ran through the woods. He kept after that scent, moving as silent and gracefully as a spirit, continuing until a faint light could be seen up ahead. Once they reached the treeline, their view peering past it, the Mystery Shack was clearly visible about a hundred or so feet off. Dipper grew exciting, ears and tail rising as his breath became heavier.

They weren't stopping there though. After taking a mental note of where the Shack was, the larger male began walking away parallel to the treeline. Dipper glanced after him, then back at the Shack, back at his home, then he turned his attention back to the one who brought him back and followed him.

The werewolf re-entered the woods, looking back to make sure he was still being followed, then trotted away into them. Dipper would continue to follow him, and would eventually be led to an area of the forest about a mile or two away where the trees were much sparser as it drew closer to a field of grass. In this stretch of forest little paths were worn down in the grass from constant travel by rabbits as they moved between warren entrances. The older wolf laid down on a patch of earth, grey yellow grass crunching beneath him as he lounged in the moonlight, long build illuminated by its splendor.

Dipper looked at him for a minute of, but hearing a rustle in the grass, and the thump of a rabbit's paw, his gaze snapped in the direction he heard it from. Crouching down, he quietly prowls through the grass, slinking around in a long arc, attempting to get a better view of the rabbit. His wet nose picking up on the scent of many rabbits hanging in the air and clinging to the grass, permeating from the very earth, the result of at least three generations of rabbits born here.

Among this plethora of old and new scents, the smell of one nearby rabbit was distinguishable, blood still pumping, little teeth still chewing, and as Dipper peered through the spaces between the grass, he saw it nibbling on the exposed stock of some kind of lupin. He opened his mouth, white fangs flashing and coated in saliva from his watering mouth, inhaling he tastes it upon the roof of his mouth. It was that of freshly caught trout, and the print of his paw in the marsh mud as if filled with water. He did not know why this was what came to mind when he tasted rabbit on the wind, but it was his taste, and The Wolf saw that it was good.

The muscles of back legs explode, sending him bounding forward with all the speed he could muster, sprinting at the startled bunny as he erupts from the brush. The rabbit's heart rate is sporatick, its mind wild and hysteric, the base reflexes kicking in as panic ensues, it's little bunny legs kicking out and sends him sprinting as the unknown source of his terror, Dipper, closes in.

The chase is short and intense. The rabbit bounding through the field, zigzagging and changing its direction on a dime. The larger, but equally fast, young wolf can't keep up with it's sharp turns, and it soon goes bounding away.

_CHOMP!_

Right into the jaws of the older wolf who appearing out of nowhere, pouncing out from the grass where he had positioned himself, seemingly like the more experienced hunter anticipated the whole course of events. Snapping it up, he vigorously shook his head, thrashing the rabbit about. He then plopped down where he stood with his catch, dropping it in front of him.

Dipper came bounding up, panting from the sudden exertion. Dropping down onto his stomach, he crawled towards the larger wolf, belly to the ground, lowering his head as he sniffed the kill, draw closer to the dead rabbit.

The other wolf pulled the dead thing to him, protecting his food for the moment, and very deliberately began about the work of eating it.

Dipper whined watching him, having not eaten all night, and had his hopes set on that rabbit when he went for it. Under other circumstances, he would have been amazed at the experience this wolf had with catching prey. He let Dipper flush it out, leading it right to where he was waiting, then claimed it as his own. Now he'd just have to wait for the scaps. Or so he thought.

After eating only a small bit, being careful to leave it mostly intact, the werewolf nudged the rest of it forward with its brown snout, flipping it over to the crouching Dipper about two feet away. The younger werewolf looked up at the calm and relaxed elder, then stretched forward, snapping up the rabbit and greedily pulling it to him. He set about consuming the kill, tearing off blooding bits and chewing them.

He would eat _everything._ Meat, blood, bones, and fur. Dipper left nothing behind as he worked his way through it, licking his lips clean of the red when he was done. Happy now with food in his belly he looked at the generous werewolf, crawling towards him and stretching his neck to lick its lips as a sign of respect and thanks.

It allowed it.

Eventually the larger wolf rose, and Dipper, now more than happy to follow it, rose to. The larger wolf set about leading them back the way they came, trotting over the grass, under shrubs, and between trees. It stops at the treeline, striking amber eyes gazing out over the field to the Mystery Shack. Thoughts moved about in its mind that were far more complex than a normal wolf's. He sat down between two trees, Dipper taking up seat next to him. Remaining in the shadows, he watched the windows where light still poured out as the residence hadn't gone to sleep yet, and were still worrying about Dipper.

Speaking of which, it was now that Mabel trudged her way back to the Shack, flashlight in hand and sad look on her face. She has spent the better part of the night looking for him, even blowing the wish she got from a shooting star she spotted just to make sure he was alright. She walked solemnly to the doorway, wiping her feet on the matt, she was about to call it a night when she made her final attempt.

Turning around to face out from the shack, Mabel cupped her hands around the sides of her mouth, inhaling as deeply as she could, and shouting out as loud as could possibly bring herself, "DIIIIIIIIPPPPEEEEEERRRRRRR!" Her voice rang out over the field, resonated through the Shack, and penetrated deep into the forest.

Dipper perked up hearing his sister call his name, his tail beginning to wag fiercely as he saw her.

Mabel stood there listening and looking out into the night, hoping to hear something other than her echo and the sound of wind.

First came the crunch of brown dry grass, then the sound of a large moving body. She looked slightly to her right, and saw a dark shape sprinting at her through the night. Dipper jumped up, practically tackling his sister to the ground, tail flailing behind him as he licked her face.

Laughter ensued after the first "ow," and soon Mabel could be heard calling Dipper a "naughty boy." The vampire girl pushed her excited werewolf brother off, managing to get up as he pranced around. She went inside with Dipper, yelling out unnecessarily that she found him, her voice grinding against Grunkle Stan's ears, but her words soothing.

From the shadows between the trees the older of the two werewolves who had spent the night traveling together watched the activity within the rugged old shack, family greeting the young werewolf and treating him with kindly, showing that he was well missed and loved. The large werewolf rose onto all fours, the wind picks up, pine needles and leaves being lifted from the ground and swirling about. When it stops a young man stands in the place of the large wolf looking at what's transpiring before him, a slight smile on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Gravity Falls: The Mystery Shack

In the living room of the old and worn shack, walls adorn either by rough stone or crumbling purple plaid wallpaper, Dipper Pines was beginning to stir from the deep slumber that usually followed the full moon, a night of romping through the forest leaving him exhausted.

He lays face down on the khaki colored carpet, body as stiff as a plank, Dipper right index finger first twitches, then his whole body moves, joints unlocking, and muscles coming back alive. Sputtering and spitting as he realizes his mouth is full of the filthy carpet, he rests the right side of his face on the floor, gaze facing left. Blinking a few times, processing the yellow recliner Stan usually sat in, and the false shrunken heads, dusty and shriveled, resting on top of the aquarium that still housed Mabel's lobster, Dipper realized he was lying on the floor in the living room.

The moment he made that connection, memories of last night's full moon came surging through his mind like a river washing over a mound of stones. They weren't the same as human memories, with more emphasis on smell and action, and he couldn't always make sense of everything that happened the night before; however, he remembered the long runs, the inability to find food that night, and another werewolf guiding him home. He thought his tail was wagging, until with a pang of frustration he remembered that he didn't have a tail at the moment.

Grunting, Dipper got up, flecks of dirt clinging to his red shirt, hair messy and tangled from a night of running wild. He rubbed his eyes which had grown slightly puffy sleeping where he had, taking his first step forward, his balance wobbling as he's not sure he's doing it right. That always happened after an entire night as The Wolf, and it took him a minute or two to get back into the rhythm of walking upright.

Walking straight forward from where he lay, he entered the staircase hall, taking a left and walking up the mildly dilapidated stairs. He reached the upper floor, heading down the hall he heard a slight gurgling sound on his right, and stopping at the bathroom, he peaks inside to find Mabel spitting out the water she had been gargling.

Mabel stood before the mirror, and running her toothbrush under the faucet she was very glad she still had a reflection, unlike some vampires. Putting her toothbrush away, she put on a big smile before the mirror, showing she big white teeth, fangs still wet, a slight glint to them in the bathroom's low light. They were long and menacing, the sharp points perfect for making near surgical puncture wounds in the chosen victim. Slowly her smile faded, the fangs a grim reminder that she had to drink the blood of others to survive. When they first came in, they had popped her braces right off, which only served as a further reminder of what she was. They actually had plans to see a dentist about her braces soon, just to get her teeth looked at. Her gaze fell from her reflection, drifting downward to the floor and the filth, heart sinking a little.

"Hey, Mabel." Dipper said, standing in the doorway.

"Dipper!" Mabel said excitedly, perking up and jerking her head around.

"How was-Whoa!" Mabel rushed him, throwing her arms around her brother and hugging him tight, the force of her vampiric speed knocking his back slightly, causing a little stumble that he caught himself from. Dipper laughed a little, hugging back.

Mabel withdrew, planting her hands firmly on Dipper's body shoulders and holding him at arm's length. "You were a very naughty doggy last night, running away like that. Shame on you!" She lightly bopped his nose. "Bad dog!"

"Mabel!" He exclaimed, swatting her hand aside, slightly annoyed.

"Ah, lighten up, Brobro. You know I'm just joshing your hambones."

"Wait. What?"

"But seriously, Stan was up until like, two, while I looked for you. So… bad dog!" She said, bopping his nose again.

Dipper gave her a half-hearted glare. "Well then next time don't lock me up. Or at least lock me up and don't fall for the puppy eyes."

"Hey!" Mabel jammed a pale finger at Dipper's chest. "You were adorable and you know it!"

"How many times do I have to say it? I am not adorable, I am-"

"PLBRTPLBRTPLBRT!" Dipper was cut off as Mabel blew a loud, sloppy raspberry, spraying his cheek with a disgusting mist of spittle. She stepped around her brother, exiting the bathroom. "But seriously, have fun last night?"

Dipper stepped out with her. "Yes, actually. I met another werewolf in the woods, and he was like, super nice. Let me eat a rabbit he caught."

"Awww, did the Dipper-puppy make a new friend?" Mabel said in mock baby talk.

"Okay, Mabel, that is seriously getting old."

Mabel laughed a little. "Hehe, okay, okay. Geese, Dipper! Would you say I'm making you a MAD DOG?!" She burst into a fit laughter.

Dipper stood this, fists clenched and arms pointed straight down at his sides. "Okay… That one was a little funny. Satisfied?"

"Oh Dipper…," Mabel placed her arm around her twin brother, "I'm never going to get tired of this." She giggled some more.

"I'm sure." Dipper said, slightly exasperated as he lifted Mabel's hand from around his shoulder and let it drop.

Mabel booped his nose, which Dipper swatted aside. "So who was super nice werewolf you met last night? Someone we know?"

Dipper thought it over. "I don't… well, _maybe._" He scratched at his chin. "I mean, we could. Normally I can smell it, and he didn't seem familiar. Though I could have always misplaced it, or in his human form he could be masking his scent with something."

"What?" Mabel inquired. "How does that work?"

Dipper tried finding an appropriate and understandable example. "...Like how Robbie smells of aftershave and anger. That's not necessarily how HE smells, which is still terrible, but he covers himself so thoroughly in other smells that I can't differentiate the layers to the scent. Someone like that could be the werewolf, and there'd be an off chance that other werewolves couldn't smell him. Get it?"

"Nope!" Mabel smiled, only half truthful. She did get the gist of it, but she wanted to make sure she had everything so she didn't look dumb later. She _hated _seeming dumb compared to Dipper.

"Well…" Dipper tapped his index finger to his lips, line of sight drifting up to the ceiling. Getting it to simpler terms, he looked back down to Mabel. "He could stink so bad I can't smell anything else. Make sense?"

"Oh, totally."

"Good," Dipper said, piecing together what he remembered from last night, feeling the need to elaborate , he added,"Though this isn't a guarantee. We could genuinely have never met the guy, and the wolf did smell clean enough. So… it's a toss up."

"In that case," Mabel's eyes narrowed, and she got a mischievous smile, "Want to go werewolf hunting?"

"...Yes. Mystery Twins style?" Dipper asked, raising his clenched fist, knuckled facing Mabel.

"MYSTERY TWINS STYLE!"

They knocked their fists together in an incredibly epic moment representing their unity as twins.

Later

Dipper had compiled a new list of potential lycanthropes, putting together a new conspiracy board, with little red strings connecting potential traits with potential suspects around the town. "He was obviously an adult male, very young and healthy. Probably an athletic build, at least six feet, most likely with brown hair."

Before him a number of names were listed with pictures to them. The traits that made them potential suspects noted. They had the Hank, an unnamed man who was fond of a red cap, Reginald, and surprisingly, Nate, all as highly chance suspects, placed at the top above the others. Under them were the less likely individuals, such as McGuckin's son, an unnamed teen wearing a hat near identical to Dipper's, Emmet, D'Shawn, Jimmy, Jean-Luc, Mikey R., Gary, Sergei, Steve, and a hipster that stuck around after Woodstick. Finally, underneath them were names that had came up that were just too ridiculous to even consider, having been crossed out in bright red. Those names included Pizza guy, some freak named Alex Hirsch, and deputy Durland.

If it wasn't anyone in the first row, they were going to have a lot of trouble searching for everyone else.

Mabel pet Waddles as she looked at the board, the little pig enjoying the physical contact and its ultimate meaning, closing his eyes in bliss as he pushed his head against Mabel's palm. "We put that together quick."

"Yeah," Dipper said, writing down all the information they had about these people, "We must be getting good."

"Or you have next to no social life and spend all your time stalking people to gather information and give yourself an unrealistic sense of control and importance."

"Yes." Dipper said, turning a page in the notepad and continuing to write without looking up.

Mabel shifted her position, holding Waddles above her at arms length while she laid on her bed, turning her head to the left to look at her brother, deep brown eyes narrowing in mock-contempt. Sometimes the best way to irritate a sibling was _not_ to fight them, as Dipper demonstrated by avoiding her trap.

Dipper placed the pen down, looking from the board to his notes one more time, then nodding as he adjusted his hat. "Let's hunt some wolves."

Mabel placed Waddles down. "Dipper, don't even try puns. That's my thing, and you just failed at it."

"Ah come on, it's appropriate for the-"

"FAILED!"

They left the room, going downstairs as Stan emerged from vigorously scratching himself in places that shouldn't be mentioned. Eyes thick and crusty with yellow rheum that collected in the deep bags that gathered under his eyes from a night of restless sleep, his expression placid and slightly unfocused, mind half in the ether, he reflected that unsound sleep of the night before. His white tank top and vertically striped boxers filthy with sweat, and reeking of what may have been other fluids.

"Hi, Stan," Mabel waved, "We're going to look for a werewolf Dipper met last night."

Stan blinked a few times. "...That seems like a reasonable and safe thing to do that a semi-responsible caretaker would allow, but I haven't been getting much sleep the last week, so I could be wrong. Fifty-fifty."

Dipper patted Stan's back as they walked by, whipping the hand he used on his shirt as they were down the hall and to the door. Mabel making sure to grab a large black umbrella, the perfect means of keeping the sun off.

Later: Downtown

They stopped at the end of the street, getting a clear view of the park where the family had been having a picnic, Mabel remaining under the shadow of her umbrella while she kept an eye on their first suspect from a distance with her opera glasses. "And you made fun of me for always carrying these things." She said with a smug little smile.

Dipper rolled his eyes as he worked out a plan to get close enough to a man named Hank for him to get a good smell in and see if he was the werewolf or not. "Yeah yeah... Lets just focus on getting close enough for me to tell if he's the guy we're looking for."

Mabel's eyes narrowed in concentration as she tapped her chin. "... So here's what I'm thinking: we find and mug a delivery man to get his uniform. You take refuge in one of his boxes, while I, now dressed in the uniform, deliver said box to them claiming its for the man. That's when you burst out, gasping for air and claiming to have been shipped from Abu Dhabi, where you had lived the first five years of your life as an exotic child dancer for a low ranking-"

"Mabel." Dipper snapped his fingers in front of Mabel's face, breaking her out of the trace she had been held in while explaining her plot. He pointed to where the family had been sitting, a thick wooden picnic table standing in a patch of emerald green grass, the relentless rays of the summer sun blocked out by an adult maple tree, large green leaves casting shade over the family, swaying lightly in a gentle breeze that rolled over the town, providing them with an extra reprieve from the heat. Hank, a large barrel chested man with a stubby brown mustache and slightly oversized nose, rose from the table. The father of awkward round boy, and uncle of two _really_ weird kids named Shmipper and Smabbel, he left his wife and children as he got up from the picnic table and walked to the bathroom.

"We could do that, or we could just wait outside of the bathroom for him to come out and not assign some horribly degrading backstory to me." Dipper said, patting Mabel's back.

"Oh..." Mabel trailed off, her buzz dying a little. "Yeah, that could work too, I guess."

They went and stationed themselves in front of the public restrooms, the sound of running water and whistling coming from inside the occupied quarters as Hank whistled while he thoroughly washed his hands.

The flowing water soon stopped, and there was a click as the door unlocked, Hank opening the door as he stopped whistling, paper towel still working over his hands as he got them nice and dry. The second the door, the metaphorical dam holding back the bulk of the smells, was opened, the sea of scents inside spilling over the twins, carried out by the difference in air pressure within the cubed room. Dipper immediately inhaled through his nose in a series of short, quick sniffs the moment those scents washed over him. It was surprisingly clean smelling in there, the pungent and pervasive order he'd expect to assault his nasal cavities, with a light pine air-freshener added to mask whatever foul stenches may arise within. It made the man's own scent much easier to discern, and after a few seconds of Hank looking in confusion between the kids that stood before him, Dipper shook his head and started walking off.

Mabel glanced at the large, confused man, and the moment he opened his mouth ran off to catch up with Dipper, umbrella bobbing above. "Not him?"

"Nope." Dipper said, hands in his pockets and eyes forward. He pulled out the notepad and crossing Hank's name off.

"You sure?"

Dipper grabbed ahold of his nose as he walked off, gently tugging it a little. "Yeah. Glad he was clean. The smell went right up my nose."

"Haha… yeah, not like it would be _hilarious_ to watch my werewolf brother freak out when he got a snort of Stan-musk up his right nostril."

Dipper glared at his sister, saying with a slight growl, "Don't even joke about "Stan-musk!"'

Through Mabel's hysterical laughter and Dipper's righteous outrage, neither of them noticed that pass the fence surrounding the park, across the street and to the right of the Gravity Falls museum, a young man watched the kids, his skin tanned from long periods outdoors and dark brown hair carrying hints of auburn for the same reason. He grinned a little, a small laughter in his throat. Watching siblings tease each other like that was thoroughly adorable. When the twins left the park, heading back the way they came, the young man, just out of his teens, followed, light blue jeans, torn and grubby, hung at his waist, the dark green brown of his loose v-neck dampening his presence, the soft color not flashing in the vision of onlookers. He kept back, minding his distance and staying on the other end of the street, his footsteps making no noise save for the slightest of _clicks_ as his black sandals met the concrete, stride soft, and experienced in the ways of moving unnoticed, the result of years prowling through the wilds.

He would remain far back, walking calmly and unfocused, hands in his pockets, turning down a different road, then circling around to get another view of them. The "Dipper" boy in particular.

Gravity Falls: Southeast

The next person was easy enough to find. Reginald, a dark skinned man with a little out of style soul patch, walked down the street with his girlfriend in arm. The woman he wrapped his arm around was seemingly entranced by the shiny new ring on her finger, both distracted and walking cheerily together. It was easy for the twins to get close, walking parallel to the sidewalk that the couple strode over, only going the opposite direction, they went right past them, letting Dipper get the smell.

The boy sniffed a few times, processing all that information. "...I don't think so."

"Positive?"

Dipper shook his head. "No, they have each other's scent all over them."

"Awww." Mabel said, bringing her free hand to her cheek, semi-squealing at the cuteness.

Dipper lightly rubbed his neck. "Kind of gross, actually."

Dipper you spoil-sport.

Mabel watch the path the couple followed, and saw the shade of a walnut tree up ahead. "Idea! Come up behind them, Dipper." Mabel ran up ahead, leaving Dipper blinking two or three times in confusion before running after Mabel.

The young couple continued on their stroll at a their brisk, but unrushed, pace, the day's peaceful rhythm prompting no need to hurry as the soft melody of the summer breeze met their ears. Once they neared the shaded spot they slowed when they saw the little girl carrying an umbrella in the summer sun jog ahead of them.

Mabel bound past them, stopping in the heart of the walnut's shadow and spinning around on her heel, arms spread wide in greeting, left hand holding the umbrella far to her side, its length tilted out at a mild angle. "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, my name is MABEL!" She said with a shout, lowering her left hand, then jerking it up with a start, hopping a few inches off the ground as she threw her umbrella into the air. As parasol hung several feet above their heads, air catching in its folds and holding it aloft, Mabel dropped onto the light grey sidewalk, stone having grown cool in the sanctuary of the shade, her hands connecting against the rough flat surface, slowing her falls and balancing her out as she pushed off and began break-dancing, which, as anyone who had seen her at the last Mystery Shack party could tell you, she had mad skills in.

She sprang back up, right as her umbrella descended back down, the brolly moving through the air slowly as if it was sinking through a viscous substance. Mabel snatched up her parasol as it came down, doning it over her shoulder, "Tah dah!" she said, taking a large bow before the couple.

The couple let out ooos, ahhs, and hushed exclamations of wonder, applauding as they laughed. Reaching into their pockets they took out loose change and bills, throwing it to Mabel, most of which landing around her feet. While they were occupied with Mabel, a sudden street show on the sidewalk making any day out more pleasant, Dipper came up behind them. Leaning forward, face inches away from the man, he got a good sniff of Reginald. Taking a step back as he processed the layers of smell, he sorted the scents of the man and the woman, separating them and finding the core elements of the man's smell. Taking a few more steps back, his head tilted upward, looking at the clear azure sky, he was convinced that this man wasn't the werewolf they were looking for.

Mabel skipped up to Dipper as the couple continued on their stroll, counting the money she had made, the man and woman leaving them behind as they disappeared around the corner of the street and into the muggy afternoon day. "You know," Mabel said, carefully adding up the pennies and the dimes to the dollars, "We need to do that more often. It could help pay for my sugar habit... if I can still digest raw sugar, that is." She pocketed the money, feeling very content and approving with the course today's events, she asked with a slight smile, skin unearthly pale under the shade of her umbrella, "Was it him?"

Dipper shook his head, looking down at the grey sidewalk, summer heat radiating off it. "No, not that dude. Though I think he could use more citrus in his diet." He rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Hmmm... not sure how I can come to that conclusion from how he smelled…"

He would shrug off that thought, the question slipping away as they went down the sidewalk. The next person would prove harder to find. They didn't even have a name on him, they only knew that he seemed to carry large glass panels around a lot as an occupation. This actually made it seem more likely that he was the werewolf in question, as it wasn't uncommon for those with conditions like this to keep a low profile, some even go on to live like animals: the result of either fear, guilt, a strange savage thrill, or some combination of three.

Because so little information about this man was at their disposal, they had no literally no idea where to start looking. It wasn't like there was a store in town with a big sign that said "Gravity Falls glass panel delivery;" however, if they had done a ten second internet search with those exact words, they would have been taken to a website where you could order glass panels and have them delivered within Gravity Falls. It even had an address where the company was based.

They didn't have internet access though, so that was a bust.

They did however get _incredibly_ lucky, and spotted him walking on the other side of the street near a baseball field, red cap pulled back and red shirt flashing in their vision, standing out against the background field's dull brown.

Now they just had to figure out a way to get a good sniff.

There was a _thwack_, then a _swoosh_, and finally a _smack_ as a baseball hit at home plate flew up through the air and over the field, coming down in a long broad arc, then striking the red capped man in the back of the head. He stumbled forward slightly, dazed, eyes going cross as he finally fell forward on his face.

Wow, the Twins were just having one stroke of luck after another.

"He'll be fine!" Mabel said poignantly as they scurried across the street.

Once on the other side Dipper crouched down over the man's unconscious body, and smelled him.

"Hmmm… Nope, not him." He said, standing up and scratching his right side. "Though I like the deodorant he's using."

"That's weird, bro." Mabel said, pulling the man's wallet out of his back pocket and proceeding to check the contents. "...His name's Dalton?! I thought that was banned by the Geneva Convention!?" She closed the black leather billfold, and placed it back in his pocket.

They got out of there right as the teams playing baseballs started to arrive, some of them noticing that the ball knocked a man unconscious.

Gravity Falls: Nate's House

Now for this one they at least knew where to start. Walking up to the porch, past the roughly overgrown boxwood bush wedged in the edge made where the sidewalk joined the driveway, and noting that the lawn could use a trim, Mabel enthusiastically rang the doorbell to the tacky fuchsia house while Dipper stood next to her. There was movement inside the house, the _bumpbump_ of heavy footsteps from behind the oaken door lightly gracing Dipper and Mabel's ears.

With a _click_, and a _creak_, Nate opened the door, hair a mess, the blue cap that normally covered it missing. It looked like he had just gotten home from someplace, took off his hat and ran his hands through his dark brown locks to get rid of the hat-hair. Smiling as he looked down at the two kids, he scratched the stubble on his chin as he said, "Yo! Maemae and Dipperdude! What's sup?"

Dipper wasn't sure about the nickname "Dipperdude," but the shot of nostalgia he got right into the brain from having one of the cool older, "mature," kids give him a nickname smothered any protest he might have put up. Mabel quite like "Maemae," and had actually used that as an alias on a few other occasions. She smiled up at the older of the trio, saying, "Yo! Nate! Can you lean forward a little?"

"Sure." He did, bending forward until his head was on level with the kids' own, inches from their faces.

Dipper stood on the tips of his toes, stretching his frame and neck up as he tilted them forward ever so slightly, raising his nose, now angled just above Nate's hair, he took a few sniffs. He fell back on his heels as he got a nose full of Nate's scent, deconstructing an analyzing its makeup. "...Nope, not him, though he could use a shower." He said, waving the stench away from his face.

"Ahwell. Thanks Nate!" Mabel said, taking a step back and waving.

Nate drew himself up, waving back with a slight smile. "No problem! See you guys!"

The twins walked away, going back to the sidewalk and moving down the street. After about a minute, Dipper looked to Mabel. "Okay, I'm not the only one who thinks it's strange that Nate had absolutely no problem with me smelling him, am I?"

"I know right?!" Mabel explained, jerking her head towards Dipper. "It's weird!"

Later

"Well," Dipper said, looking over the list, "that crosses off our prime suspects, and there are a lot of runners up, so," he folded the notepad up, placing it under his arm and holding it there, pressed between his upper-arm and side, "we may have a busy day ahead of us."

"Awwww," Mabel pouted. "Do we have too check them all? I don't like being out when I'm hungry."

This was mostly true, though Mabel was almost always hungry. She hadn't been getting enough to eat with objections about biting down on cute, fuzzy forest creatures, and as a result she had been losing weight.

"Ah… okay, Mabel." Dipper's heart sank, more from knowing how much vampirism had affected Mabel than anything, and how much she'd been hurting for it. "Well… yeah, okay! Lets get you home. I can search myself, and later tonight we can find you a snack!"

Mabel smiled smally at her brothers burst of enthusiasm and resolve to see that she was okay. "Thanks, Dipper." She said, sheepishly

Dipper placed a hand on her shoulder, then rested his arm on it as she turned, walking with him.

They started to make their way back to the Shack, having spent a better part of two hours out in the town, but they stopped when they heard a "_Massy! Stop!_" from past the end of the street and on around a corner from another block, the sound dampened by the distance between the twins and it. Around the corner at the end of the street, a tiny white and grey mass of flowing fur came bounding towards them. More rat than dog, the little mutt's tiny legs carried it over the sidewalk at an impressive speed. Through the flopping hair around its eyes it saw the two kids not twenty feet ahead of it, and a high-pitched, piercing yap went out from it again and again and again as it charged them.

_Yap-yap-yaap-yap-yap-yap-yip!_

It charge right at them, screeching to a halt as it neared them, the stupid little yip and yap continuing as it looked up right at them, seemingly fixated more on Dipper than Mabel as it bounced around, its incessant yapping assaulting their ears.

The kids took a few steps back, the little rat-dog jumping forward, Dipper's hand going up, palms facing out and exposed in a defensive manner, "Whoa there! What… w-" Dipper's voice stopped, form going ridged. His right eyelid hung down, halfway closed as he was dead silent, mouth opening, his lips peeling back to reveal his teeth as his jaw was stretched out like he was about to sneeze. His fingers curled in, clenching hard against his palm then unwinding out, and finally his jaw snapped back down with a firm _clunk _as he bit air.

"Oh no." Mabel said, a note of dread tugging in her chest. She had learned to recognized what behavior like this meant. "D-" was the only syllable she managed to get out before a gust of wind blew through the street.

The little dog's barking cease, all sense immediately picking up something in a way no human could ever understand. It took a few steps back, eyes locked on the brown canine much larger than it that stood where the suspicious looking boy had been a second ago. Its ears up and perked forward in interest as it stared at the little dog, shoulders held broad and tail hoisted up, swishing left then right as excitement built in the other animal.

The Wolf took a step forward, yellow brown eyes trained on the little dog. he small mutt literally turned tail, running away in a frenzy of tiny sprinting limbs.

The wag in The Wolf's tail increased, and he began to pant.

Sensing what was about to happen, Mabel reached out a hand for her brother, "Dipper NO!"

Before her skin even touched his fur, The Wolf was off, sprinting after the little dog at a nimble pace, tongue flapping against the side of his mouth with each great bound, sleek and lean body bolting down the road like a bullet. He cornered even better than the little dog, despite his larger size, as his legs where longer, more flexible and coordinate, and sturdier for that length, big paws gripping the ground. So while the little dog tumbled over itself as itself as it scrambled around the end of the street to make it back it its owner, the pup near gracefully was catching up.

Soon Dipperpup was upon the little dog as it raced back to its owner, yapping that high-pitched, piercing yap one again as it panicked, tiny padded paw over tiny padded paw; however, the speed The Wolf had built up carried it right past the smaller dog. Slowing to a trot, The Wolf jumped around to face the little dog, intending to play, but the small mutt raced right between his legs and was snatched up by his owner. Dipper bent his neck down, looking through the gap underneath him that the dog had sprang through. Catching sight of human legs Dipper yanked his head up and jumped around, tailing wagging as he ran around the man holding the scared little dog in his arms.

"Hey there, boy-ha-hey! Get off me!" The man responded to the pup prancing around him, then jumped up onto his leg. The man shook his leg, but Dipper jumped up again, excitedly playing, the rush of the chase sending doggy-adrenaline right to his brain. Simply put, he was wound up and to play. He continued jumping on the man, who wasn't exactly opposed to the pup's play, but found the constant badgering to be an annoyance.

He gave the little brown "dog" a slight kick the next time he jumped up, docking him off. When The Wolf's front paws were planted back on the ground, he lifted his fuzzy head up to look at the man, tail now still, ears perked up, and yellow brown eyes wide as he looked at the man not expectantly, or curiously, but rather, knowingly.

Turning his attention elsewhere and lowering his head he trotted off, light gait building into a run as all fours carried him down and across the street right as Mabel arrived and called out for him. It was hard to run as fast as you could in the summer while wearing a sweater and carrying an umbrella.

And lets not forget she hadn't been eating as much as she should have. All in all, this probably slowed her down and gave time for Dipper to disappear down the end of the street.

Heart pumping, nostrils wettening with mucus as a result of the exertion, and fur pressed back against his lean body as the air washed over his form, Dipper sprinting off the sidewalk, over the asphalt, and onto a stretch of grass that ran next to a home. Ducking between a line of bushes he emerged onto a field, having entered a more rural area of town. Sprint not stopping, the pup's youthful energy propelling it through the tall wild grass, big paws and claws digging into the ground. Back legs drawing forward as he pulled himself onward, then pushing out when they came down in a spasm of muscle, launching him forward, the dry yellow grass tinted golden in the mid-day sun crunching under paw.

Nearly gliding over the field with the majestic grace only a true wild predator could posses, Dipper exploded through the grass on the other side and running through the nearby treeline. Taking a sharp he continued to run parallel to the treeline, moving as it moved with the rise and fall of the land. He would stop for a few minutes to catch his breath, sniff the area, and roll around in some very interesting smelling pine needles. His chest burning as his lungs craved air, he panted heavily, exposing his tongue to the warm air, exhaling excess heat and letting the saliva evaporate in his mouth to cool him down.

Once he felt slightly renewed, and thoroughly smelled of whatever he had just rolled in, the young Dipperpup was off. If he had been in a pack he may have taken the time to scent mark, a behavior lone wolves do not exhibits as it would give their location away. And after a few run-ins werewolf packs, he decided he'd much rather not get harassed by snotty wolfmen and women.

Weaving in and of the trees, stopping to gaze out over the landscape from the treeline, despite his long distance vision not being quite as good as it was when he was human, he would wander the wildplace. This was… _right_. Being like this was right. Yet it wasn't quite right. Even without the same level of higher thought a man had, somewhere deep in it's mind The Wolf still wasn't quite as sure if it was acting as it should. Wasn't sure if it's movements were quite right, and if it shouldn't be walking on its back paws instead.

It would shrug it off though. That long, and quite possibly _passionate,_ romp it had up to here had gotten it used to the movements, and whenever that sense of unease and animal uncertainty filled him and he couldn't understand why, he'd just go back to the motions, burying himself deep in wolf behavior. When he did this any doubt he had disappeared as he did as his form was always meant to do.

To lose that sense of dysmorphia, all he ever had to do was _be _The Wolf.

Trotting over pine needled, dry twigs, pitch, and dirt, he reach the peak of a hill, smelling decomposing grass feed and corn on the wind. Human or wolf, you remember the smell of a farm. It's not exactly pleasant to either one, though the wolf would find it more fascinating. and given that it was still Dipper, fur and all, he was curious. Peaking past the treeline he saw the outline of the farm not a mile away, and he continued along the treeline, staying out of the open as he went to investigate.

Drawing closer an old memory played in his brain as he made out the setting. Sprott's farm was dull and fairly inactive, the petting zoo not open today, and most choirs done for the moment. The place was nearly a cut and past imagine of what you expected a farm to look like: dark red barn with white roof, windmill stretching to the sky, blunted propellers turning slowly in the occasional dull gust of wind, and animals napping in the shade to escape the midday heat.

Crouching low as he looked over the homestead, the young wolf crept forward, he prowled to the fence, and sliding under he snuck along the side of one of the farm structures: a shack. Ears perked up and on alert for any dangers, he came around the corner slowly, padded feet dampening sound. Finding no one the general vicinity, no _humans _anyway, he came out from behind the shack, sniffing and looking around.

One smell and sight attracted him in particular: the chicken coop. Seeing the pen a memory fire in his mind. Recognizing the easy prey, and looking around to make sure no one was watching, Dipper snuck towards the structure that housed the flightless bird. Getting close he silently circled around it, the tall chicken wire blocked off all entry save for a gate at the front, a successful deterrent for most predators.

But a werewolf was not most predators.

Seeing the bolted latch on the gate, another memory fired in the wolf's mind. He didn't have the same mental capacity as his human form normally did, but he had all of his human memories and understanding of what a thing was that he normally did. Rearing on his hind legs he rested his front paws on the gate. Budging and biting the latch he pried the handle up and locked his jaws. With a little effort he slides it back, dropping back down onto his paws as the gate swings open, the young wolf lightly treading in.

Going up the ramp to the elevated coop, paws touching down tenderly and slowly as he draws himself near. He slides his head in through the small square opening in the pen, this was one of the low hanging coops where the ceiling was just lifted up and the farmer could pick out eggs and chickens as they saw fit, making a single long row on either side, chickens lined up like they were on display in the isle for a predator's grocery store.

Unfortunately only some where asleep, and when they saw The Wolf's head peering through their front door an alarm of clucks went up through the coop as the chickens panicked. Sliding his small frame through, The Wolf's vision locked on one and it sprang, teeth flashing and powerful jaws biting down. There was a panicked screech from the capture fowl, driving the rest of the coop wild. Its wings flapped and its body spasmed as it tried desperately, yet futilely, to get away. Dipper pulled the poultry to him, pinning it under his paws as he unlocked his jaw and went for a more a more appropriate kill at the neck. The feathered food let out another horrified screech, tiny brain washed over with dread as The Wolf's jaws came down.

Dipper shook the kill in his mouth a little, making sure it was good and done.

"Emmit! Go get the gun! I say, go get the gun!"

The young wolf's head bolted upright, dropping the chicken that had been dead in his mouth as his ears shot up. Spinning around in the limited space he poked his head out the small door.

D'Shawn held the gate closed, back turned to the coop as he commanded Emmit who stood behind him. Dipper tail went between his legs, his ears going back flat against his head, while the hair on his back began to stand up defensively. He crawled backwards deep into the pen, chickens racing around him and tumbling over each other to be the first ones out the door and away from the predator. Deep in his mind, the werewolf knew that this was very, _very_ bad

"I've got the gate, now get that bloody gun before that heir damn coyote kills more hens! Stop being ah git, and-Oh sweetholyshit!"

D'Shawn's voice was overwhelmed by a sudden deep and aggressive snarling, the sounds of huge forms running, tripping, scrambling up, screaming, and cursing were followed by vicious snarling and dangerously feral barks.

Dipper remained in the back of the coop, its only resident now save for a few unhatched eggs. The gate could be heard being forced open, the chickens panicked and confused clucks growing even more so as they parted for someone. The top of the roof shook a little, Dipper whimpering as he shook at the very back, looking up at the ceiling as something moved it. Finally with a large _skrush _the roof was pried open, and a young man dressed in a loose green brown shirt hoisted it up and held it open, letting rays of piercing summer sunlight bombard the inside.

Dipper winced as it was open, unsure of what to expected, the noise, movement, and figure frightening to him. Whoever this was looked down at the cowering werewolf, then over to the chicken he left abandoned near the entrance. He reached over a tan hand, and grabbed it by its scaly legs. He pulled it up before him, its dead frame swinging back and forth slightly in the air.

"...Well?!" The man about a year or two out of his teens asked impatiently. "Come on!" He jerked his head to the left, motioning out to the exit and gate. "Get your fuzzy butt moving!"

Dipper instantly scrambled over the wooden floor to get out of the pen, black nails scraping over the boards as he ran for the exit. The man let the roof drop as the young werewolf slid his slim wiry frame though the small square opening and bolted for the gate. The tall man ran with him, and together they went out, jumping over the fence and disappearing into the forest.

Gravity Falls: Mystery Shack

Mabel sat at the table, little keister planted in the chair while she laid her face against the old flat table. Depression was a kind of deflating feeling, as if what's holding you up is seeping out of you, and gravity is pulling your whole form down. She was hungry, a vampire, couldn't get any food at the moment, and had lost Dipper _again._ So yeah, she was sad. And laying there she felt as if she just wanted to go flat and melt over the table as her cheek squished against wooden surface, turned head fixing her gaze on the clock, body completely stationary as she watched the hands move little by little.

After she hadn't been able to catch Dipper or find him, she called Grunkle Stan, then animal control. There was a werewolf working for them, and she got what Dipper was going though. Venkman made sure Dipper always got back to Mabel, and she had even been nice enough to give her a ride back to the Mystery Shack.

Mabel hoped they found him soon. He had ran off like this on a few occasions before, he was a wolf after all, a wild animal, not a dog, but he hadn't done it two times in a row or when she was there before.

The doorbell range.

Mabel sat up. "I'LL GET IT!" She yelled through the house, sliding back her chair as she dismounted, she walked out from the kitchen and into the staircase entryway, going for the door. She turned the the handle and opened the door, putting on the best smile she could muster, and squeezing out as much enthusiasm as she could. "Welcome to the Mystery Shack: home of mystery, wonder, annnnnd you're kind of cute!" She said, tone and demeanor changing as she trailed off, staring up at the tall young adult in front of her, semi-transfixed on his face.

"Thank you," he said, a note subtle charisma and actual gratitude in his tone, "Yes I am." He lifted up a very young brown wolf, hands hooked under the fur covered armpits, its long lupine body hanging down, back paws resting on the ground to support it's lower half as it panted in excitement, tail wagging as it saw Mabel. "This your brother?"

"Dipper?!" Mabel gasped, grabbing her brother and pulling him into a crushing hug while the pup licked her face. "Bad boy!" She squeezed him some more, swinging him from side to side as she snuggled against him, his little legs rocking in the air as she held and swayed him. "Do we need to have you chipped? I think we need to have the bad boy chipped!" She petted his head, his fuzzy brown brow scrunching up as he squinted his eyes in pleasure, tail wagging as he leaned forward, planting lupine kisses on Mabel's cheek. Touch was an intimate act among most mammals, especially social ones like wolves and humans, so this tender moment was made all the more important to the twins as they embrace.

She looked back to the tall young man standing patiently on the porch, smiling with a little grin as he looked on to Dipper and Mabel's display of sibling love, laughing as little as he watched the cute enthusiastic parade of affection. She blinked twice. She was missing something. Something that he said. And it took her moment to place it. "Wait, what did you mean by "bother?'" She laughed nervously. "Haha, whaaaaaaaat? That's ridiculous! This is my dog. I mean, hahaha, he's more like my... hapless little baby than my brother."

If you remember the incident with the truth teeth,, you'd know she's a terrible liar.

The person standing over her's mouth twitched, and though it was clear they was trying to hide it, he couldn't stop his facial muscles from peeling his lips up in a big grin that was knowing, smug, mischievous, and reflected a deep sense of being entertained as he watched her.

Mabel laughed nervously again, glancing from side to side, and feeling inexplicably warm in her sweater all of a sudden.

The young man thought this out. "Heh, okay..." he said, scratching the side of his face, nails racking over the skin and stubble. "I really don't know how to respond to this, so I'll just try saying it." He lowered his hand, placing it in his pocket causally. "I know about the werewolf thing. I just caught him killing a chicken at Sprott's farm." He took a step back, feeling a little uncomfortable with the poorly done reveal. He turned to the right to look at the dead chicken that was laying in the dirt. Dipper had taken it from him on the way back. The pup hadn't seemed to be interested in eating it, so he must have had other plans judging by how proudly and deliberately he carried it. "You said his name's Dipper?"

"Yeah. How'd did you... oh... Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Mabel's face lit up with a big smile, letting go of Dipper she pointed right at the dude's chest, The Wolf going and picking up the chicken. "You're that werewolf he met last night!"

He smiled wolfishly, as cliche as that sounded, nodding forward with a grin and a sly wink. "Yep. What gave it away?"

"Just a hunch." Mabel shrugged, Dipper returning to her side with the chicken's corpse dangling in his mouth.

"Good hunch." He said, taking his hands out of his pockets and tapping his thighs just bellow them. "I was keeping and eye on you guys since last night and followed you into town."

"Creep. Why?"

He titled his head in a dog like manner, looking down at Dipper with a calm warmth. "Hey!" He exclaimed in a slightly indignant mannor, gaze still on the younger werewolf. "If I hadn't he would have been dealing with some _very_ angry farmers. The complete reason why is a little more 'complex.'" Raising his hand on level with his shoulder, letting it hang limply from his wrist as he tossed it around in a circular motion with the last two words. "Mind if I come inside?" He stopped the motion with his hand and grab his pocket again. "It's little awkward just standing out here."

"Sure." Mabel said, making way for him. "Name's Mabel!" She offered out a hand enthusiastically. "Mabel Pines!"

"Thank you." He said, taking a step inside, and shaking her small hand firmly. "My name's Ben. Benjamin Geraust."

She smiled as they went inside, placing her hands on her hips, gaze narrowing suspiciously as she looked at Ben with a sly smile. "That's weird last name."

"It's German. They're all weird."

Mabel laughed all the way to the living room, missing that Dipper had just brought a dead chicken into the house until he dropped it in her laps when she sat on the recliner. "Whoa, WHAT?!" She yelled, looking down in shock at the dead fowl slumped in her, then to Dipper sitting on his haunches, looking at her expectantly. "Um... thanks, bro?"

His tail began to wag, swishing back and forth in wide sweeping motions, his breath became a pant with anticipation, hot and moist as he exhaled each rapid puff, eyes wide with excitement. This all translated roughly to _Yay! You eat now!_

Ben scratched behind Dipper's ear as he looked down at Mabel. "I think he wants you to eat it."

"What? Ewwwww!" Mabel stuck her tongue out in protest and disgust, squinting as she scrunched up her face and eyes for good measure.

Ben was quite as he watched Mabel's display of indignation, calmly looking over her then sniffing the air a little. "...You haven't been eating very well, have you?" He said, gently. "And if you're uncomfortable with the vampire thing, I already know about that too." He traced a circle in the air around his nose. "Can smell it. Plus, the pointy ears and fangs are a dead give away."

Blushing, Mabel quickly cupped her hands over her ears, glancing down and avoiding eye contact with the guy in embarrassment, being sure to keep her mouth closed tight to conceal her fangs too.

"Whoa now," he said softly, raising his left hand up defensively, as if to show he wasn't a threat, instantly seeing that he had hit a sore spot for the poor girl "It's aright. I get it," he crouched down, lowering his hand and resting it on his knee as he leaned forward towards Mabel, his face, smile, and shiny eyes kind and gentle, understanding even, "You're talking to a guy who grows a tail, has to resist sniffing dog butt, and deals with the compulsion to pee on things to mark his _"territory."_ Which is basically the house and any place I feel comfortable if I'm at there for too long I get it. It can be uncomfortable and embarrassing for other people to see, but if you're really hungry, it will help. No need to be embarrassed or ashamed."

Dipper placing his head on her leg whining slightly knowing something was wrong. Mabel looked up at Ben, staring for a few seconds quietly before removing her hands from her ears. Without going into vast detail: she ate it. Plucking a few feathers she drained all the blood she could. It was disgusting, much better when it was fresh, but blood was still good a few hours after it had been drawn or the animal in question had died, and though it really wasn't that good, underneath the forced consumption she couldn't help but jokingly think to herself, "_it tastes like chicken."_

The blood wasn't all that filling. She was still very hungry, but this could at least hold her down for a while.

"Feel any better?" Ben asked calmly.

"Yep!" Mabel responded, putting a little extra effort into making it sound particularly satisfied as she patted she stomach.

"Well good. Do you think Dipper will want the rest? Dry chicken is still chicken." They both looked at the young werewolf, who seemed more interested in being petted than anything else, so they wouldn't bother. Ben raised his right hand, stretching his fingers out from his palm, muscles in it going ridged as they stretched, "Well then, lets get him here so we can talk." He placed his hand down firmly on the young werewolf's furry head.

The Wolf's yellow brown eyes went wide as they glazed over, losing focus on anything in particular and just facing forward. His ears drooped down, hanging limp on the sides of his head, the movement his tail stopping as it laid flat on the floor. The lights in the Shack flickered, and in less than a second Dipper was sitting on his bum where The Wolf had been. Ben removed his hand from Dipper's head covered in thick brown hair, the boy looking around in bewilderment, momentarily disoriented and trying to get his bearings.

"Hello, Dipper," Ben said as he stood up, Dipper jerking his head to face the source of the unfamiliar voice, "We met last night."

"Hey, Dipper! Glad to have you back, you naughty dog." Mabel said with a smile, Dipper jerking his head to look at her too.

"Wai-what?!" He said exasperantly, blinking repeatedly as he looked from Mabel to Ben, mind trying to process this sensory information, but hitting a wall each time. "W-what's going on!"

"Well to recap," Mabel raised her hand in front of her and began counting off her fingers, "We were looking for the werewolf you met last night. A tiny dog charged us barking and that set you off. You ran away. Made it to Sprott's farm. Got in trouble. Had Ben save your fuzzy butt and bring you back here. And finally it turns out he's the werewolf we were looking for, and he was following us because he wanted to keep an eye on you and ask you some stuff."

"Oh..." Dipper blinked a few more times, rubbing the side of his head, looking at the dead chicken. "Oh yeah... I remember. Something with fields and chickens." He looked up at the tall young man. "So you're..."

"Ben," he said, taking Dipper's hand firmly and lifting him up, "and I wanted to talk to you."

"Whoa!" Dipper yelled, legs wobbling as he stood upright, not quite used to standing on hind legs after a long run as The Wolf. He threw his arms out, balancing himself before looking over to him. "What about? And why? Not to mention what's going on and all the general "what the heck" questions that should just be raised right now?"

Ben took a step back, clapping his hands together as if he was limbering up for a race while he walked around him. "A lot of reasons, actually," that note of charisma he had when speaking to Mabel returning. "It was pretty obvious that you hadn't been a lycanthrope for very long, I could smell that you were bitten instead of born with the condition, and you clearly had very little experience. Plus, you were a little guy alone in the woods when I found you. Naturally I wanted to make sure you'd be alright, and find out more about you. Make sure you could handle yourself, and maybe offer deeded guidance from someone with more experience." His words flowed out very fast and fluidly while he made little hand gestures and motions, fingers always moving and fidgeting with something, be it themselves, his shirt, or a little soft steel cross he had tied to a strap of leather wrapped around his neck. Mabel noted how his demeanor seemed to fluctuate since they met. Starting out as charismatic, then slightly awkward, then soft and warm, then serious then back to charismatic and passionate again. "So," he said, clapping his hands together, "Since I've had lycanthropy my whole life, I thought I could offer you some help if you were interested. Teach you to control it and such." He opened his hands and held them out on level with his abdomen, as if holding something in each palm, offering whatever was in them to Dipper.

Dipper glanced at the man's smile, then to Mabel, then to the hands, saying after a moment of staring, "Umm... thank you, but... no thanks!" He raised his hands defensively, turning his face to the side as he kept his eyes trained on him. "I mean, really, I like that you took the time to look into a werewolf kid you just met cause you were concerned, and I really appreciate the save at the farm, but I'd rather not take werewolf lessens from someone I don't know. And even then I'm not entirely sure I'd want werewolf "lessons" at all." He a stepped back, placing his hands in his pockets. "Thanks again, but I don't really want to learn how to be a werewolf. I just want this thing to be over with."

"Ah...," Ben nodded his head. "I see. Understandable." There was a silence between the three of them, the awkwardness in it escalating with each passing second. "Well, I should be going then. It was very nice to meet both of you. Sorry I can't be of assistance. I'll take care of the chicken." He picked up the chicken by its scaly feet, turning to walk out, waving slightly.

Mabel sprang up. "Whoawhoahwhoa, WHOA!" She waved her hands around in large circular motions, building up momentum with each "whoa." She jumped around, turning in the air to face Dipper with an explosion of disbelief. "Bro, you sure about that? A werewolf whose really nice, brought you back home when you were lost, and is offering to teach you how to live with your furry self fell into your lap, and you're saying "no thank you?"' She held her hands out to Dipper pleadingly, Ben taking a step away behind her. "I mean, what the heck, man?!"

"I..." Dipper trailed off, sinking into his mind defensively, then stopping as a fire lit in his chest, knowing why he said no but to afraid to vocalize it. Clenching his hands into fists in resolve. "I don't want to be MORE of a monster!" He blurted out, getting light headed as he filtered out his anger from his words. "I want this to go away and never come back, just like you do. I don't want it to be a bigger part of my life, I want it to be gone. Thanks, but, no."

Mabel looked at him for a second, blinking once, then twice. "Oh... I'm sorry."

"It's aright, Mabel." Came Ben voice from the archway to the stairway entry. They looked over to him, his hands in his pockets while smiled kindly. "It makes complete sense. I wouldn't want to learn from some weirdo either." He let out a small chuckle. "Though I don't see it as a curse, but I've had it my whole life, so I guess I'm bias. But Dipper, if you ever change your mind, I'd happy to show you why I it can be a blessing." Though it sounded like a cliche thing to say, it seemed right to Ben. His wolf half was part of him for his whole life, and he couldn't agree with someone who wrote that intrinsic part of himself off as lesser.

Dipper grabbed the bill of his hat, bulling it down over his eyes, preferring not to look at him for the moment. "Thank you."

Ben stepped out, heading for the door. "See you later. It was very nice meeting you both." He waved, his voice genuine, the dead chicken he intended to dispose of in one hand.

Mabel growled a little in frustration, shaking slightly as she held still in place before she rushed out to the front door. "Wait."

Ben turned around, a step outside the door and into the hot summer atmosphere, just about to close it behind him.

Mabel opened the door back up. "Dipper's a big doofus. Come on, I bet we can convince him to listen." After running away twice in such a short time, Mabel was very open to the idea of Dipper learning to control his animal half. If it happened again he might get hurt one of these times, or get lost and never find his way back.

Ben pondered it for a second. "...No." He said, very flatly. "Probably would only build up his resolve if he's stubborn like that. You can try to convince him though." Seeing Mabel nod, but expression sink a little, he continued, "but how's his: get me a pen and paper and I'll give you my number in case you convince he of otherwise, he changes his mind, or you guys need help?"


End file.
